Hit And Miss
by joy2theWorld
Summary: When her mother dies, Tavington's 19 yr old, illegitimate daughter is sent to live with him in South Carolina. Another blotch on his name, he wants nothing to do with her, but she is determined to make him feel something for her, anything. Please Review!
1. Unwanted Relations

Author's Note: Ok, this is just the standard, disclaimer thingy. The only character born from my imagination in this chapter is that of Alys Tavington. The rest were created by someone else in the motion picture The Patriot. First off, thank you for reading! Please, feel free, nay! ENCOURAGED to review. I'm not a review junkie, but feedback is always very much appreciated. Well, enjoy the read and I hope to hear from you soon!

The sun rising molten over the fields, a soft breeze cooling the humid air; it was a beautiful morning. In the colonies, it was the best one could ask for. The only thing that could improve the day would be a ship full of new recruits - fresh faces, strong, rested bodies all ready to be put to use in the fields. And that was exactly what Colonel William Tavington, standing in the glow of the South Carolina sunshine, was looking at.

The ship was a glory. It's sides gleamed in the morning light as men rushed about to lower the gangplank. Tavington breathed deep the remnants of sea air as well as a whiff of class. Any craft sent by the King himself was no dinghy after all.

General Cornwallis sighed contentedly and beamed at the young healthy prospects making their way to the dock. "Glorious day, isn't it?" he said, in a rare good humor.

"Quite enjoyable," Tavington answered, smiling mirthlessly.

"Reminds you why we bother with this oversized chunk of a country."

"Indeed, sir."

Cornwallis glanced at Tavington sideways. "By all means, Colonel, don't overexcite yourself." Getting no reply he scoffed, "Good lord, is it possible for you to show a little passion?"

Tavington bit the inside of his cheek in irritation. Measuredly, he replied, "Respectfully sir, you'll find me a much more passionate man when I am putting this ship's cargo to the test on the battlefield."

"Ah ha. Very good, then. Very good" The General's eye's flicked to the first men who were disembarking. "Well, then." He shifted and straightened his waistcoat. "I suppose we should... eh, shall we?"

"If you insist, sir." Tavington made a motion for the ranks behind him to stand at attention as the General gave the old smile and nod at every lad that signed in. A few, surprised and pleased, grinned and looked to Tavington for a similar gesture of welcome. He sneered coldly and that was the end of that.

A whistle came from one of the ranked men behind him. The Colonel whirled around to silence the individual with a ferocious glare before turning his attention back to the ramp. He had to swallow a gasp and watched with his fists clenched and his teeth grinding together as a tanned, solid girl of nineteen sauntered impudently down to the dock.

She was plainly and cheaply dressed, although - much to the Colonel's relief - the clothes were tasteful. She wore no bonnet over her closely chopped hair and there was a wide, cheeky smile on her wide, cheeky face.

She stepped onto the dock with a little bounce and planted herself directly in front of Tavington and the General. "Daddy!" she cried, moving in for an embrace. Tavington stiffly jerked his head at Cornwallis. The girl drew back, thrown off, but then turned to the superior officer and lowered her voice. "I beg your pardon. General." She firmly offered her hand to the General - as a man would. Tavington squeezed his eyes shut.

Cornwallis took a moment to evaluate her and then turned her hand gently so that the palm faced down. She blushed with embarrassment. The General kissed her fingertips and then looked her in the face. "Ah yes, Miss Tavington. Alys? It is Alys, is it not?" She nodded, silently. "Well then. You are most welcome to the colonies, my dear. I trust your stay will be an enjoyable one."

"Thank you very much indeed, my lord," she answered. She looked hopefully at Tavington, but her eyes were drawn beyond him to the soldiers struggling to cover their smirks. She sighed and curtsied, eyes downcast. "It is very good to see you, father." And with one last curtsy, she began the walk toward the manor.

Tavington could barely contain himself. He paced rapidly back and forth across the General's office, fuming and breathing like a dragon. Cornwallis allowed himself a secret smile to see the cool, calculating Colonel in such a row. "Do be good and have a seat, won't you Colonel?"

Throwing himself into the chair, Tavington took a deep, deep breath before hissing, "_What_ is _she_ doing here?"

For his own amusement, Cornwallis took his sweet time. He produced a letter from his coat and handed it to Tavington, who snatched it and, finding it already opened, began to scour it furiously. The General spoke as he read. "Her mother seems to have run onto a bit of hard times. Illness and that sort of thing, am I right? And the young lady was unable to find a job that eh, society would not condemn. So she has been sent here to you."

Tavington groaned slightly at that but continued reading. He slowly lowered the paper, his face blank except for what could have been construed as a touch of regret in his eyes. Cornwallis peered at him. "Oh. Apparently, it's more serious than all that."

The Colonel cleared his throat. "Lucy's doctor has also enclosed a note. He does not believe that she will live out the month. And given the time it takes to travel to the colonies by sea..."

"She has died already," Cornwallis finished. He looked for a very long while at Tavington, watching for some sign of sorrow or remorse. "I'm terribly sorry for your loss, Colonel." The man merely folded the letters and put them in his pocket. "Yes, well," the General stammered. "I understand that you were not married..."

"No," Tavington said sharply.

"Then, perhaps the ties that bind were not quite as..."

"No. They weren't." Tavington looked up and met the General's eyes with his own, unwavering gaze. "I request permission to take my leave of you sir. It appears that I have a..." he shook his head as if the word put a bad taste in his mouth. ".._ daughter_ to tend to."

"Indeed. Very well." The General waved his hand in dismissal and the Colonel rose and strode curtly out of the room.

Alys sat cross legged on the unfamiliar bed, listlessly folding and unfolding her clothes. Every now and then the view would catch her attention and she would stare out at the golden, rustic countryside, eyes flying like birds over the rolling hills and far away trees.

A sound at the door startled her back to earth. Her father, Colonel Tavington, stood stiffly in the frame. Despite the glower he was sending her, Alys couldn't help but smile. He was a striking man; tall, dark and commanding. It was easy to see why her mother had fallen for him. What woman wouldn't feel safe in the presence of such strength? A ripple of pride ran through her blood to think that she was descended from that strength.

But no such affection would be given her. "Is that any way for a lady to sit?" Tavington demanded. Alys uncrossed her legs hurriedly and put her feet on the floor. The Colonel winced to see bare toes under those skirts. Alys looked at them too and grinned sheepishly. It was not returned.

After a moment, Alys's grin withered under the Colonel's icy stare. Ever buoyant, she ventured, "Haven't seen me in a while, have you?"

"Where is you hair?" was the short response.

She touched her shorn locks and laughed loudly. "I sold it!" she giggled. "Isn't that a stitch? A wigmaker bought it for quite the pretty penny. Said most would pay good money for curls like mine. Although, I wish you could have seen them. They were something." She searched his eyes and shivered at their cold blueness. "Mother sends her regards," she said finally.

Tavington sniffed. And tossed her a package.

"What's this?" She picked at the paper.

"Open it up," he said curtly. She did and a beautiful green muslin dress spilled onto her lap. Before she had time to gasp in appreciation, he let fire, voice as clipped and measured as musket fire. "You are to stay on the grounds of the manor at all times. You will not speak unless you are spoken to first. You are not to associate with the enlisted men and you are most _certainly_ not to associate with _me_." Alys bit her lip and set her face in an oblivious smile.

"This is quite the dress," she said, voice strained despite her best efforts. "Thank you."

"It is a gift from the _General_."

She tossed her head and looked him dead on, soft brown eyes against hard blue. Her teeth flashed in a bright grin. "Then I shall be sure to thank _him_." And with that, she swung her legs back up on the bed and crossed them under her, still staring at the Colonel, daring him to comment.

He barely raised an eyebrow and turned his back on her just like that.


	2. Hit and Miss

Author's Note: If you're reading this, it means that chapter one was either good enough or bad enough to keep you interested! Here's chapter two! Relatively light stuff, but don't worry. I promise there will be drama and intensity soon. Please do review this little ditty and thank you! Come again! PS - Still goes: Only Alys and Fields are mine.

Alys Jeanette Tavington had seen and heard many things in her lifetime, but the sound of musket fire got her blood racing faster than any other sound on God's green earth. And the smell of gunpowder - it was the smell of death! And when it's sharp scent came to her she couldn't feel more alive. It was for this that she ignored the Colonel Tavington's command and journeyed to the practice fields to watch the men shoot. She was a sight; a solid, confident young woman with too much man in her stride, walking brazenly amid the perspiring soldiers. She didn't even flinch when a musket went off in her ear. And her bare neck and full bosom drew plenty of stares. She pretended not to notice and focused her attention on the firing.

Some careless fool had left his loaded weapon lying on the ground while he took a particularly long drink from his canteen. Alys picked it up and wiped it off. It was heavy, but not too heavy and the wood and metal, smooth under her fingers, seemed to live. The corners of her mouth turned slightly upward and her heart quickened.

"Hey!" The musket's owner had turned and noticed her. "That's not a toy, Little Miss. Give it here before you hurt yourself."

Alys looked at the young man cooly, then turned her eye back to the gun. She shifted it smoothly to rest in the crook of her shoulder and aimed it at one of the targets. "I think I'll be alright." She shot him a smug smile over her shoulder. He bristled. Good.

"You do, do you? Can you fire it?" He widened his stance, ready to defend his masculinity.

Boys made her laugh so. "Of course I can fire it, silly goose." She winked at him.

"Ah ha, sure. But can you _hit _anything?"

She scanned the field. "Give me a target." She nodded at a dummy, far out in the field. "That one?" Before he could answer, she pulled the trigger. In the distance, straw exploded from where, on a living man, the heart would have been.

The young soldier was flustered for a moment, but his man pride was soon back on it's feet and ready to fight her. "Not bad for a woman. But any beginner could do it."

"Fine." She grinned, happy for the challenge. "What do you suggest?"

He tossed his canteen, now empty, up and down, thinking. He looked at the target. "Hold on." Alys waited patiently as he ran across the field and set the canteen on top of the dummy's head. She laughed and clapped her hands and began to reload. Her girlish voice drew the attention of a few more men.

"Now what are you doing with a big gun like that, milady?" An older man said smoothly. "You'll disturb your dress and damage those delicate fingers."

Alys held up her hand and stared at it. True, the fingers were long, but strong and able. She shoved it in the face of the newcomer. "Do these fingers look like they'll be easily damaged? I'd worry more about what damage they'll do to you."

As the young soldier came running back, the older man turned to him angrily. "What in hell is going on over here, Fields? The woman taking your place?"

Fields wore a satisfied smile of his own now. He pointed to the canteen, maybe the size of a pinhead. He stood back with the others and said, reassuringly, "Now calm down boys. And watch this." He motioned for Alys to go ahead. She looked at the target and back at the soldiers. She lifted the musket again.

"Do any of you want to place bets?" she asked coyly. A smirk that mirrored her father's came to her lips as the jingle of coins was heard behind her. She set her sights, steadied her arm and fired. The canteen flew high in the air. The sounds of the men's disbelief were music to her ears.

"Come on, then!" she said, face flushed with sun and excitement. "You've got more for me than that, haven't you? Set up another!"

Training was forgotten as His Majesty's elite raced about setting up targets for the laughing girl. She hit one after another, always dead on. Soon the taunts were turned to cheers. Private Fields slyly brushed his fingers against hers when handing her the ramrod. "If you miss," he said nodding at the new target, "You'll have to kiss me." Alys tossed her short hair and sent the mark flying.

"Too bad, laddy-love," she said and patted his chest lightly. "Better luck next time."

"I think not." The laughter fell to a dead silence and Alys was face to face with Colonel Tavington's piercing stare. His eyes could cut like daggers and right now they were focused all on her.

"_What _is the meaning of this?" he said, taking the gun from her calmly but firmly. He did not have to raise his voice for every word to be heard. He was cool, but Alys could see a storm forming fast behind that gaze. She opened her mouth to say something cute, but was cut off. "Who taught you to shoot?" he demanded.

A confidence spread through her. "You did, sir," she said sweetly, meeting that hellish stare. "I learned watching you."

Tavington's lip twitched and Alys knew she had got him there. One of the few memories she had of her father was watching him train religiously for hours on end.

"This is not the place for you," Tavington said, finally. "Take yourself back inside." Alys nodded obediently, but still felt a flame of victory in her chest. The men mumbled regretfully.

"Best damn shot I ever saw," the older man said.

Tavington raised his eyebrows, amused. "Is that so?" he called after Alys. She set her hips and shrugged. "Very well then. Set up a target." Fields did so. Tavington handed Alys the rifle. "Go on then," he said, almost in her ear. At any other time, Alys might have noted that this was the closest she'd ever been to her father. But there was a challenge set for her. And by God, she would meet it. She loaded the gun and fired.

Perfect.

Tavington gripped his jaw. She'd taken him by surprise and the soldiers knew it. But the Colonel simply brushed off the shoulder of his jacket and took the musket back into his own hands. "Set it up again. Further this time."

Fields ran to do as he said. The dummy and canteen were moved back several feet, but the Colonel had no trouble hitting the mark. He handed her the weapon again and said, "Your turn."

And so they continued. Fields would move the dummy and canteen and they would shoot, first Tavington, then his brash daughter, both deadly accurate, never missing. Finally Fields moved it as far back as possible while still in range. The Colonel aimed, fired and hit.

"There, girl," he said smirking like a fed cat. "All yours."

As Alys loaded the musket, she studied her father. True, he was the best, there was no doubt, but she was good and she had made an impression. The men were favoring her considerably with claps on the back and whistles while the Colonel had to be his own silent cheering section. The game could last for hours if they kept it up like it was but sooner or later, one of them would miss. She had nothing to lose, but her father... These were men he commanded. They respected him. If he was unlucky, his authority would suffer. Alys sighed, shouldering the gun, and aimed at something far off.

A few disappointed groans came from the soldiers. Alys shrugged them off and handed the musket to her father. "And that's why you were the teacher," she said. "And I am still learning."

Tavington eyed her suspiciously before taking the musket from her. He said slowly, "I wouldn't have taught you to miss."


	3. Daughter's Dance

1Author's note: Bear with me on this one, guys, it's a long one. But it moves the plot forward. I hope. Thanks for sticking with it and please please please review! Alys and Fields are still the only characters of my own creation. There is foul language in this chapter.

Skirts whirled like pinwheels, brightly colored as candy, across the floor of the manor house ballroom. Men's boots tapped smartly in time to violins, flutes and a very valuable harpsichord. Another one of General Cornwallis's extravagant affairs was underway.

Colonel William Tavington watched from the punch bowl, glass in hand, lips pursed in mild distaste. Cornwallis was content strolling about and making small talk, looking down his nose at the less fashionable party guests. They counted themselves lucky if Tavington so much as acknowledged them.

Across the room, his daughter was leaning up against a wall, surveying the goings on wistfully. She looked almost pretty. The dress from the General fit her sturdy but shapely form surprisingly well, emphasizing all the right places. If she would just stand up straight...

Seeing her standing there, all alone but full of fire nonetheless, Tavington was reminded of her mother. Lucy had blonde hair and brown eyes that could be so warm, but so fierce. He'd met her in a tavern in a bad neighborhood on a bad night. His mood was as foul as the weather and he sought only to drown himself in drink and the company of degenerates. And he would have done so and returned home in the morning just as sullen if that smile hadn't caught his eye. Big, healthy teeth gleamed behind soft pink lips, unexpected brightness at a very dark time in his life.

Instead of falling into pint after pint, that night Tavington fell into those kind eyes and tender, tender arms. For a few months, sweet Lucy was his confidant and lover as well. He was young then and stupid. Of course the girl would get pregnant. It was foolish to believe otherwise. He did his best to provide for them over the years, sending money when possible and allowing them brief visits at what remained of his estate. But when the rumors began to escalate, he said goodbye without a backward glance.

"Couldn't have married me, could you?" How well he remembered her voice, beautiful and full of pain. Her eyes flashed at him as their young daughter listened from the other room. "No bar-girls for the great William Tavington, oh no. Just remember that you didn't think so low of me when you were pouring your soul out to me, or kissing me, or _fucking_ me." Her anger could have split the earth where they stood. But he left them regardless. He cared, just not as much as Lucy would have liked.

But it didn't end there as he had planned. Lucy had followed him to the colonies in the form of an impertinent, swaggering woman-child. She looked up and caught him watching her. She straightened hopefully. Tavington looked away. It was his obligation to tolerate her presence, nothing more.

Alys settled back into the corner. Fine. Never mind that she was only attending the silly party to make him look good. The slippers on her feet were too tight. Wincing, she knelt down and removed them, then stretched her toes in relief. The floor was cool and comforting.

She heard a snicker and looked up. The Private Fields was standing a few feet off, looking at her now bare feet in amusement. He stifled himself when she fixed him with a hard glare and held up his hands in apology. "Don't get mad," he said. "They're fine."

"They're feet," Alys snapped.

"And I said they're fine," he said, moving closer. "It was a compliment, so say thank you."

"_Thank you_," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Out of her element, being a wallflower put Alys in a nasty mood. Fields wasn't put off. He came over and leaned up against the wall, next to her.

"That's a nice dress," he said, looking her over, pathetically attempting to be nonchalant. Her cheeks grew a little warm.

"That's what I thought," she replied. "Nicest thing I've had." She spared a glance at him, all got up in his newly-cleaned uniform, shined boots and polished buttons. "Is that a _wig_ on your head?"

His hand flew up to cover it. "It's just protocol," he stammered. "They make us."

"You should take it off," she said. "You're real hair looks much better."

Fields hesitated, but her eye's dared him. Slowly, he removed the offending hairpiece and revealed his own short, tousled brown hair. Alys smiled in approval.

"What did I tell you? Much better." She reached up and ruffled it. He wiped his brow.

"Phew." His breath came out in a sigh. "You have no idea how unbearably hot those things are."

"Of course I do. I used to have hair five times as long and far thicker than that little thing. And we have to wear bonnets over our heads as well."

"You don't wear a bonnet," Fields laughed.

"I don't _own_ a bonnet," said Alys.

The stood for a while in silence, Fields shifting his weight uncomfortably. Alys searched her mind for something to say, but was unsuccessful. Teasing a boy on the field was nothing, but what did one talk about at this sort of affair?

At length she said, "Why don't you go out there and mingle, or do whatever it is you do at parties?"

Fields rolled his eyes. "I'm only here to represent the enlisted men. But these people don't want to talk to soldiers. They're far more interested in the officers and higher-ups." Alys nodded. "What about you? Why are you standing back here?"

"I'm a nasty-tempered little wench, determined to spoil everyone's evening, that's why." She made an impish face and stuck out her tongue. Fields had to cover his mouth to keep down a guffaw. The both observed the dancers quietly. Fields fidgeted, feeling as though he were neglecting a duty of some sort.

"Did you want to dance?" he asked.

Alys's eyes widened in a momentary look of terror. "God, no!" she exclaimed. "I haven't the slightest idea how!"

Fields sighed, greatly relieved. Neither did he.

Cornwallis was quite proud of himself. He was full of self-importance as he perused the room, followed by stares of admiration and respect. His conversation was the most sought after, and he was glad to indulge the guests with confident reports about their little victories and gains. Only when the "Ghost" was mentioned did his face darken, but he soon set any disillusioned storyteller straight, vowing that the "Ghost" and his rabble would soon be taken care of. Then he went back to enjoying his evening.

A giggle from the corner caught his attention. Tavington's daughter was nearly doubled over in laughter much to the delight of some young Private. Cornwallis narrowed his eyes. A young Private with no wig on his head!

A few guests looked over in the direction of the General's focus and tittered at what they saw. Cornwallis clicked his tongue. Tavington would not appreciate whispers about his daughter, and the alliance in the corner was not the sort to be encouraged at such a stately event. He made his way over to the punch where the Colonel was standing, looking very similar to a bored hawk.

"Young Miss Tavington seems to be getting along splendidly with one of your men, there," he said pointedly. The Colonel looked to the corner where the two were now whispering to each other, thick as thieves. He drew a sharp intake of breath. The General continued, "A little _too_ splendidly, if you catch my drift." Tavington did. "Do something about it, will you?" He slapped Tavington on the back and went back to his entourage.

Tavington sighed and started over.

"You look very pretty with a little powder on your face," said Fields. "Especially when it's not gunpowder." Alys frowned dangerously.

"Is that so?" she said.

"But then of course you look fine whatever's on your face," Fields said. Alys laughed at the boy's discomfort and took his hand, lacing her fingers between his.

"I like you," she said softly.

This made him bold. He drew very close. "You know," he said, "You missed a target the other day and I never got any kiss."

Alys drew back with a smirk. "I missed _a_ target," she corrected. "Not _the specified_ target."

Fields smiled. "Even so," he said. He was handsome. Grey eyes, strong, thin nose (slightly big), and smooth, prominent cheekbones. He was so _close_!

"Excuse me," a soft, clipped voice made both youths whirl around. Tavington stood with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Fields struggled to put his wig back on and Alys noticed with mirth that he'd replaced it sideways. She straightened it without breaking eye contact with her father.

"I'm terribly sorry sir." Fields' voice shook.

"Such a display goes beyond the level of appropriateness that these occasions demand," the Colonel said as smoothly and deadly as a snake.

"Yes sir," said Fields, terrified.

"I expect you to conduct yourself with more decorum, Private. And _you_," His volume increased, a slight lapse in control. "I expect _you_ to conduct yourself like a lady!"

"And how, pray tell, is that?" Alys smiled too sweetly while Fields tried to shrink away. "Please, do demonstrate."

The Colonel's mouth dropped open. He could have delivered an admonishment that would make one of his Dragoons cringe in fear, but people were beginning to stare. Instead, he snatched Alys's wrist and pulled her close to him. Alys stumbled.

"What are you doing?" she whispered. Her father had hardly so much as touched her since she was an infant..

"Dance with me," he demanded and began to lead her onto the floor. She resisted.

"I don't know how!"

He held her fast. "Don't make a scene," he muttered under his breath. "I will teach you and you will do fine." She bit her lip in fear but the Colonel would have none of it. "Don't argue with me, girl, just do it!"

_One, Two, Three, One, Two, Three._

Alys counted in her head, watching her feet, scrambling not to step on her father's toes. She was not quick enough however, to save hers from getting crushed.

_One, Two, Three, One, Two, Three._

Her father's arm around her waist grounded her and kept her focused, feeling secure. But it also prevented escape.

_One, Two, Three, One, Two, Three._

She chanced a look at his face and nearly tripped. His eyes were elsewhere. Preoccupied. Distant. Alys sighed and accepted it, what else was there to do?

_One, Two, Three, One, Two, Three._

The music slowed and the girl in his arms stepped smoother, more sure of herself. Tavington watched the crowd, making sure everyone was taking note of the happy Colonel and his happy daughter.

"What did you say?"

"I said, 'Are you going to dance with me this way when I get married?' I understand that's what fathers do."

Tavington scoffed. "Who are you marrying?"

"It was only a question," she sighed and let her gaze wander to the far corners of the room..

_One, Two, Three, One, Two, Three._

Tavington looked down at her and tried to imagine what she would look like in white. With that soft face and golden hair, she might look like an angel.

She noticed him staring. "What are you looking at?" she said.

He paused and studied her for a moment. "I was thinking that you would look much prettier if you hadn't cut all of your hair off," he answered. She made a noise of disgust. Softly, he brought a hand up to push a short lock behind her ear. She stiffened, startled and scrutinized him carefully. He ignored her, saying, "No matter, though. Your shoulders are visible now. You have good shoulders."

"Thank you." Her voice was colored with puzzlement. Tavington half-smiled. Good. She wasn't unflappable.

The waltz ended and he walked the girl to a chair. She sat down immediately and rubbed her feet, gritting her teeth and making small groans. Tavington suppressed a laugh and looked elsewhere. Finished, she yawned.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Exhausted," she replied. "Who'd have though dancing would be so much work?" She leaned back and massaged her face. Rolling his eyes, Tavington nudged her legs closed. She sat up and they remained that way, observing, but soon Tavington noticed she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

He leaned down and laid a hand on her shoulder. She started. "Go to bed," he said. "No one wants to see you drop off here." She nodded sleepily and rose, stretching. She passed him, making her way to the stairs but stopped and came back. "What?" he asked.

The girl stood up on tiptoe and kissed him gently on the cheek. He blinked in surprise and looked down at her. She smiled in a way that he had never seen her smile before. It was quiet and gentle and full of something that looked like... love. "Thanks for the dance, Daddy," she said. Then she kicked off her pinching slippers and skipped up the staircase to bed.


	4. Battered Peace

1A/N: This is actually kind of a filler chapter I'm making up as I go along. Was originally just going to launch into the plot but I don't feel T and A'a relationship is developed enough yet. Let me know if it works! I still don't own the Patriot.

---

Though the evening had long since winded down and all guests were slipping into peaceful slumber, Colonel Tavington was restless. He paced his shadowed room like an edgy tiger, at times laying down and willing sleep to come and at others simply standing still.

He brought his hand up to his face and touched his cheek where his daughter - the word sounded so alien to him - had kissed him. It tingled faintly as he remembered the soft press of her lips. Damn it! He threw himself down to sit stewing on the edge of his bed. The manipulative, petulant brat! What did she want from him? Hadn't he made himself perfectly clear when he said there was to be no association between the two of them?

_Ah, but it was _you _that danced with her, m'dear, _said an annoying voice in his head. Oddly enough, it sounded like Lucy's.

Tavington rose and buttoned his shirt. He would set her straight. Tonight. Let her know that she was his responsibility, not his treasured sweety. In the career of an officer, there was no room for family. He had seen many brave men with boundless potential run away from their chance for glory because they had a demanding, sniveling family to worry about. Well damned if some _bastard_ would stand in his way.

_Remember though,_ Lucy's voice persisted. _She's your bastard._

"No," he said aloud as he walked into the hallway. "Not mine. Not in the least."

Outside her door, he paused for a moment and considered his entrance. He decided not to wake the sleeping rest of the world and entered silently as an assassin.

She was as deeply asleep as everyone else in the house. Stretched out on the bed, still in her green dress, she look like she had simply fallen asleep where she fell. Tavington scoffed and drew nearer, hand poised to shake her awake.

But he couldn't. He could cut down countless men in battle, burn endless numbers of homes and shoot a child while it's family looked on in horror but he could not bring himself to rouse her. It must have been her face. A peace had settled there that the Colonel had never known in his life except for maybe his first night after his first victory. It was the peace of a sleeping child. But since Tavington had never before seen his daughter sleep, the feeling took him quite by surprise. The moonlight spilled over the curve of her cheek and pooled in the palm of her hand and her steady breathing was disturbingly soothing, almost mesmerizing.

Tavington shook himself out of his trance. It was no matter. The issue of their familial bond (or lack thereof) could be addressed in the morning. He started to leave the room but stopped. She was going to wrinkle that dress.

Slowly, with a lockpick's fingers, he undid the buttons and began to slide her out of it. At his touch, she recoiled violently and cried out. Tavington drew back then returned to the task once she relaxed. She flinched again, but not so much. Tavington draped the dress over a chair in the corner and went back to lift the girl and put her under the covers.

In her shift, a good portion of her skin showing, Tavington noticed on her upper arms large, dark bruises. They were faded, obviously old, but prominent and ugly. The edges were a sickly, brownish yellow that melted into the black-purple. Tavington drew his in his breath with a horrified hiss. Ever-so-softly, he touched one with his fingertips. She whimpered again, but clenched her hand into fists and twisted her face into something fierce and frightening, ready to fight. Tavington felt a little flutter of amusement and something else... admiration? Yes. Admiration that even in her vulnerable repose, this girl was strong.

Shushing her, he knelt down and smoothed her bangs back from her forehead. As her tenseness subsided, a tear squeezed out from the corner of one eye.

"Now what are you crying for?" the Colonel whispered, bewildered. But she didn't answer him, only breathed softly and evenly.

Gently, Tavington slipped his arms under her shoulders and lifted her. With his other hand, he peeled back the sheets, then laid her down and covered her up. She sighed and snuggled into her pillow.

Instead of leaving, Tavington knelt by her beside and remained there for hours, unable to tear himself away. Fascination held him like a magnet. Who was this woman? This girl? This baby? Her face was now free of care, but he had seen it set in grim determination on the training field, in embarrassment while dancing and just now in fear and absolute sorrow. Where is such an assured girl saddled with a sorrow like that, he wondered, and how does she find such peace in sleep?

He was still there when the sun's early-morning rays crept into the room, almost asleep himself. Suddenly, her eyelids fluttered and she opened them to look right at him. He leapt up toward the door, but she simply stared at him with that innocent, blissfully unaware gaze of one just awakened. Tavington swallowed and backed out of the room and nearly ran back to his own quarters. Where he was safe.

---

A/N: Just a short one. Too cutesy? I think it'll help justify some actions and explanations in chapters yet to come. Thank you for your continued support and feedback!


	5. Confrontations

A/N: Oh faithful readers! Thank you for still continuing. I have a favor to ask. Remember when I said I wasn't a review junkie? It was a dirty, shameful lie. I absolutely lover reviews and I start to get the shakes when I don't get any. So please! Any comments or feedback whatsoever is greatly appreciated. Thanks! And enjoy the chapter. Patriot Still not mine.

---

Though the summer sun was hot, Alys Tavington managed to stay respectively cool, sitting in the shade of the veranda, crunching into a refreshing apple and swinging her characteristically bare feet in the air. Somewhere in the distance, a bird sang. Alys pursed her lips and happily mimicked it's melody. Life at Middleton Place was beginning to look considerably brighter. Each day, she was allowed a wider and wider berth for exploration. The soldiers now returned her smiles when she passed. The servants knew her by name. Even the Colonel was different, though she would hardly venture yet to call him warm.

Though they rarely crossed paths, the few daily interactions she had with her father had changed considerably. He no longer silenced her chattering with a stiff command. She was allowed to say her "Good morning's" and "How do you do's" and he could only take them in stride. He did not seem to know how to handle her affection, blinking in bafflement and mumbling a response. Alys took it as a good sign that he responded at all and she rather like seeing him thrown so off guard. So she continued to treat him as if they had lived together their entire lives in familial harmony.

Speak of the devil! The Colonel exited the manor, straightening his uniform jacket as he came out. Her mouth was full of apple, so Alys waved heartily and smiled. She imagined she must have looked something like a happy chipmunk. The Colonel pretended not to see her.

She swallowed. "Good morning!" He couldn't ignore that. Tavington offered up the sacrificial "Mmm". He looked around for something, anything that could draw him away. Nothing. He sighed, accepting his entrapment and crossed to his daughter swaying merrily in the porch swing.

"Do you even own shoes?" he asked, wrinkling his nose ever-so-slightly at her bare feet.

"I'm sure I do," she said. "But why wear them when it's so hot?" She slid over and patted the space next to her. "Sit down, won't you?"

He did, stiffly. She smiled and closed her eyes in a look of utter rapture as a breeze came in off the water. "It's wonderful," she sighed.

The Colonel, amazingly, returned her smile. "It is pleasant, isn't it?" he agreed. Alys beamed with gratification. She held out her half eaten apple, but he declined. "Ugh! God, no."

"Our cooties are related, you know." She pulled her legs up onto the seat and took another bite. Tavington pinched one of her protruding toes.

"Put those down," he snipped. Alys stuck her tongue out but obeyed. He looked at her and shook his head. "Who in the world taught you to behave?"

"No one," she answered plainly. Her voice was casual enough but a look of loneliness strayed across her face. "Mother tried, but she was too busy making sure I wasn't going hungry to check up on my manners. And then when her health got bad, I was too busy to worry about not having any."

An uncustomary knot of guilt formed in Tavington's throat. "Ah," he said. She shrugged.

"Just think how dull proper etiquette would make me," she said, smiling. "You would find me so gentile, so easy to get along with. Ugh, you'd get so bored. How would you occupy yourself if you weren't worrying about how I'm going to embarrass you next?" He snorted into his sleeve.

"Trust me," he said firmly. "I could find several ways to productively fill the time."

"Ah." Alys tapped the side of her nose wisely. "But you would have absolutely no fun at all."

"No," Tavington replied with a smile. "I suppose that's why you are here."

Alys blushed, flattered and fidgeted with a gold chain around her neck. "What's that?" the Colonel asked. She slipped it off and handed it to him. A small locket hung gracefully from the chain. Tavington opened it and saw an immaculately painted portrait of Lucy and on the other side, just as finely produced, a portrait of himself. He touched it thoughtfully. His face was so young.

"Mother gave it to me before I left," Alys explained. "I only found it again the other day." As Tavington handed it back, she added, "She's very beautiful, isn't she?"

Tavington nodded. "If you want to know," he said softly. "You look a great deal like her." Alys looked down hurriedly. He hear her mumble "liar", but as he looked at her he spied a grin slowly creeping to her face. He sighed contentedly and gazed off into the serene countryside. Both father and daughter shared the moment in silence.

A commotion near the gate disturbed the placidness. In uncanny synchronization, both the Colonel and Alys leapt to the porch railing to see. A lone rebel, bearing a white flag, was making his way to the manor. As he drew closer, Alys could see that he wasn't more than a few year older than her father, though his face was considerably more lined and weary. His fighting fire was low and quiet. But when he passed the Colonel on his way into the house, he cast him the most hate-filled stare Alys had ever seen. She watched with curiosity even after the doors had closed behind him.

The Colonel turned sharply on his heel and went to the doors. Alys followed. He stopped her with a glare. "Where do you think you're going? No." And he went inside and slammed the door behind him.

Alys walked back to her perch, a little hurt, but she was numb to her father's curtness by now. She watched the soldiers go about their business.

Fields was standing on the other side of the yard, guarding a group rebel prisoners. She waved at him. He saw and lifted his hand. Yelping when she trod on a rock, Alys ran over to him. He looked around nervously.

"Are you sure you're father- I mean, the Colonel won't get angry?" he whispered, keeping his eyes front.

"He's inside." Fields remained rigid. "Come on, Fields, look at me,"she huffed, exasperated. He risked it. "That's better. What are you doing over here?"

"Guarding prisoners, what's it look like?" His eyes darted back to the house to see if Tavington had emerged. "Listen, don't you get me in trouble."

"I won't!" She giggled and pushed his arm. He frowned at her and she sobered. "I won't," she said seriously.

"Is your father Colonel William Tavington?" the militia man closest to her asked.

"Don't answer him," Fields said quickly and jabbed the butt of his gun into the pen. "And you don't ask the lady questions! We can hang you right now, if we like."

Alys looked at the prisoner bemusedly. "What if he is?" she said. "What's that to you?"

"Well, that's just adorable." the man laughed harshly. "The Butcher's got himself a daughter! What do you know?" A few others chuckled cautiously.

"Shut your hole!" Fields snapped and brandished his weapon. They fell silent.

Alys was about to ask them to explain carefully, in great detail, exactly what they meant by "Butcher", when a Captain came over and began to open the lock.

"What's going on?" Fields demanded.

"They're being released." The Captain answered. "Hostage negotiation. They have nineteen of our men and they demand a trade." Fields grumbled under his breath, but helped the Captain open the gate. Alys watched with interest. The man who had spoken to her earlier came right up to her and stared her in the face. She stared back.

"No," he said. "There's too much good in those eyes. That man will break you in two." He shook his head sadly and followed his friends to freedom. Fields glowered after them.

"That's enough of that," said the Captain. "General's orders."

Alys heard the door swing open and the rebel came out of the house. Tavington followed closely behind. The militia man turned to face him. The yard went quiet. They're exchange was controlled, but whatever they were saying was intense. Alys noticed that both men's fists were clenched and trembling. She drew closer.

The militia man said, "Before this war is over, I am going to kill you."

Icy fear slammed her like a wave when she heard those words. She started to sprint towards them, ignoring Field's protests. The rebel's eyes flickered beyond the Colonel to the young woman. Tavington turned and saw what he was looking at.

"_Stay where you are_," he said, each word dropping like a stone. She stopped but locked the rebel in her stare and would not let him go. He frowned at her in a mixture of interest and pity. His brown eyes were sad, her's were terrified and furious.

"Don't." It escaped in a barely audible whisper. "Don't." The rebel looked from her to Tavington, who's hand was on his saber. His gaze hardened.

"Soon," he said, pointing his finger at the Colonel. He cast one last look at her and was gone. Alys moved to her father and touched his arm. He yanked it away and pinned her with a look of pure fury. She had seen the Colonel irritated, even angry and never backed down. But this was different.

"This is a war," he said, straining to keep his tone level. "I am an officer. You are a child. Do not _ever_ attempt to interfere again."

Alys stepped back, stunned. Tavington glared at her balefully for a second longer, then strode back to the house. Alys did not move. She ignored the reassuring squeeze Fields bestowed upon her shoulder before returning to his duties. She remained still even when the scout returned, bearing the decoy with which they had all been tricked. And as the soldiers groaned and cursed with frustration, she could only think of the anger in her father's voice.


	6. Parting Blows

A/N - Ah! Finally, the makings of some drama! Thank you for sticking with it. Please let me know if I am not faithfully portraying the original characters from the Patriot. Thanks for the reviews! Please, keep them coming, I'll need them!

---

The yard was buzzing frantically with activity. Dragoons ran from place to place, packing satchels and grooming mounts. Others sat and cleaned their guns. Cornwallis stood next to Tavington who was currying his horse vigorously. The General's lips were set in a tight, unhappy line, but he held his tongue. Tavington noticed the eyes burning a hole in his back and turned to face him.

"I have your word now?" he asked calmly. "Things are to be done my way, without question?"

"I've said yes and I said it sincerely," the General stated.

"Good," Tavington said. "When this is over, you'll be thanking me." Cornwallis barked a doubtful "Ha!" but said nothing else. Satisfied, Tavington continued to stroke his horse.

---

Outside, Alys watched the bustle in confusion. Everyone was in a hurry and the noise was terrible. Boots were stamping, horse whinnying and the rattle of arms being taken up was deafening. She caught sight of Fields rushing past her and grabbed his sleeve.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"You didn't hear?" Fields said in disbelief. "The General has given your father the order to search out and destroy the "Ghost's" militia. We're leaving in the morning."

"What?" Alys felt her chest tighten, making it difficult to breathe. "Why didn't my father tell me? Why didn't _anyone_ tell me?" Fields took her hand in his sympathetically. "Wait, this Ghost. Is he that man who rode in here today? Was that the Ghost?"

"Yes, that was him."

"No!" Alys backed away angrily. "You can't go after him, it's too dangerous!" Fields would have laughed at this but he saw the fear beneath the anger in her face.

"This is what we do," he said gently. "We go where we are sent, kill who we must kill and die if that is God's plan for us." She shook her head, blinking back tears furiously. Fields drew closer and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I would hate to leave," he said, starting to feel treacherous tears of his own blur his vision. "I would hate to leave without telling you what a remarkable woman I think you are." She looked up a him, surprised. He took this as encouragement and continued. "And I hope that you will think of me often until I return." That was it. He didn't dare go any farther. Already, his cheeks felt hot.

Alys looked down at the ground and said nothing. Then, she broke away again in a panic. "My father!" she cried. "That man is going to kill him!" She turned and ran off. Fields slapped himself in the forehead, feeling like a proper fool. Stupid! Stupid! He sighed and turned around to go back to packing, kicking the dirt as he went. There was the sound of pattering footsteps and strong arms wrapped around him from behind. Alys spun him around and planted a swift hard kiss on his lips. Fields was speechless. She smiled sadly as he gaped at her.

"Bring yourself back safely too," she whispered and was gone.

---

A shadow in the doorway, caused both Colonel Tavington and General Cornwallis to turn. Alys wavered there, tentatively. Tavington turned back to his mount. "I have nothing to say to you," he stated flatly. "Return to the house immediately."

She did not budge. "They say you're going off to fight tomorrow morning." Her voice was trembling. General Cornwallis smiled humorously at her.

"Soldiers fight, my dear," he said as if he were speaking to a child. The girl didn't even glance at him but took another step toward her father. He did not look at her. Another step. Nothing. She snatched the curry comb away from him and hurled it to the ground. The General held his breath and watched anxiously. This was as dramatic as the opera. Tavington mustered every bit of patience he possessed and faced her with forced control. The girl's face softened and she reached for his hand. He jerked it away, without breaking eye contact. He was like a wall; high, stony and impassable.

"Please do not go," she said. The General was astonished to see tears spring to her eyes. She had seemed so strong to him and quite frankly, not very feminine. The water on her face now, however, was all a woman's.

It did not seem to phase the Colonel at all. He curled his lip into a condescending sneer. "What a preposterous suggestion," he said, doing his best to belittle her with every syllable.

She held her ground. "I'm begging you," she said huskily. Tavington stared at her coldly.

"As if _that_ is enough to persuade me." He bent down and picked up the comb.

She flung her arms around him. "Let go of me this instant!" he barked and shoved her away roughly.

"What do you want me to say?!" she cried. "'Daddy don't leave me'? 'I need you, Daddy'? I'll say it now and mean every word of it! I am alone in this country, do you understand that? What will become of me if you die?"

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?" he answered with that infuriating smirk.

"No, but God damn you, you're supposed to feel something!" She was shouting now, tears gone, face red. "You're supposed to feel _something_!"

Tavington lowered his voice dangerously. "You have somehow gotten the infantile notion into your head that you mean something to me. You fool yourself. Now be quiet before you cause another scene like this morning."

She laughed incredulously. "You are too proud!" she said. "Do you want me to apologize? Fine! I apologize! I'm sorry I was so frightened for your life that I embarrassed you!" She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Why is it so hard for you to care about me? I care about you. And I don't want you to die!"

This was getting a little too passionate for General Cornwallis's taste. Tactfully, he decided to remove himself from the area. They barely noticed him go.

"Do you think that I am grateful for that?" Tavington's disgust was so great he could have spit. "I am _not_ grateful to you. I am not proud of you. And I am not fond of you in any way shape or form. In fact!" he continued. "The only feelings you will ever inspire in me are feelings of joy when you have left my life forever!"

He couldn't have stung her more if he had struck her. She stared at her feet in stony silence, but then looked up and fixed him with a look of pity.

"How easy it is to make me into your cross," she said. "Poor disgraced Colonel Tavington is burdened with yet another scandal. You don't know the half of it." Her eyes hardened and became like sepia fire. "I told you I sold my hair for money. Did anyone tell you what else I had to sell?" She gripped her body tightly and for the first time, she held a look of shame on her face. A loving father would have rushed to her then and taken her in his arms. She needed to be held and forgiven. Tavington only shut his eyes. That explained the bruises. She laughed harshly. "How would that mar your name Sir High and Mighty? How would you suffer if everyone knew your daughter had to live as a whore!" She ran to the doorway and yelled the last sentence loudly enough for the entire state to hear. Tavington grabbed her and pulled her back inside, slamming her up against one of the stalls. She twisted free and stood a few feet away from him, shaking with fury.

"Reputation be damned, I do what I have to!" she spat. "My only wrong is that my father did not make an honest woman of she that loved him." She looked at him with unbearable longing in her eyes. "You think I don't know you," she whispered. "But I know my mother loved you..."

"Your mother is dead." The words tore from Tavington's mouth like ravenous animals. The girl froze as if she had been shot. All blood drained from her face.

"What?"

"There was a letter. She died while you were crossing the sea." He extracted the accursed paper from his pocket, musing at the fact that he had kept it, and flung it at her. She could barely hold it to read it, her hands shook so hard.

"No." Her eyes flew to his, uncomprehending.

"Yes." Her shoulders slumped and she sat heavily on the ground, legs refusing to support her.

"I barely said goodbye to her," she said, voice dead. As much as he was enjoying her anguish, Tavington couldn't help but feel a small pang of loss himself.

"That makes two of us," he said. He waited while she stared blankly at the ground, fingers trailing in the dirt. Then he made a move toward the door.

"Yes, that's good, walk away from me again," her voice followed him reproachfully. "You're so good at it, after all."

Tavington was at her level in a flash, taking hold of her face in a vice-like grip and glaring into her with his soul-piercing blue eyes.

"Your mother is dead," he snarled, giving her a shake. Then he flung her away so that she was thrown to the floor of the stable. He rose and straightened his uniform as she picked herself up. His voice dripped with contempt. "It would have saved me a world of trouble if you were dead as well." And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out on her. As he did, he heard the most wrenching wail of loss and despair any human being could have produced. But damn him if he would look back.


	7. Infiltration

1A/N: I can't say enough thanks for your reviews. It's really a great incentive to continue! So, here you go! The next chapter!

---

The Green Dragoons rose with the sun the next morning. Colonel Tavington felt his heart blazing as vibrantly as the Carolina sky above. They were a smart sight to see. Nearly one hundred tall, fit men stood at attention, the light gleaming off of their buttons. These men were what his majesty's army was really made of. They were men he had trained, men who would kill and die for him and follow his orders, no matter what those orders were. They were the men who would crush that damned Ghost and win them this war. A prideful smile spread across Tavington's face. The power of commanding this elite force was exhilarating.

General Cornwallis was watching from the veranda, face set in a sullen frown of disapproval. Tavington smirked, very pleased with himself. The General had refused and refused to let him do his job properly, calling his tactics "brutal" and "most ungentlemanly". Well, now he'd see. All of England would see when William Tavington brought them the heads of the Ghost and his whole bloody militia. So let the old sheep sulk. The wolf would go to the kill and come back victorious.

Tavington swept the yard over briefly with his chilling blue eyes, searching for any sign off his sandy-haired daughter. He listened for her low, smooth voice. Nothing. He scoffed and chastised himself for even thinking of it. The girl wouldn't dare show her face, even to see them off. Not after the words that had been spoken between them. Nevertheless, her absence put a slight emptiness inside of him.

A man stumbled out of the house and past the General, wearing only his shirt and a layman's breeches, struggling with a pair of shoes as he ran. Tavington scowled at him as the man came to a panting halt at his horses feet.

"Tardiness is inexcusable, Private," Tavington said, voice heavy with warning.

"Yes sir!" The Private saluted once he had caught his breath. "My apologies, sir! It's just that I couldn't find my uniform anywhere. So..."

"How does one _lose_ his uniform?" the Colonel sneered.

"Well," the soldier stammered. "Someone must have taken it." Tavington rolled his eyes.

"Never mind," he snapped. "Fall in." The soldier moved to obey. General Cornwallis stepped forward.

"Colonel, this man is not in uniform! He cannot fight."

Tavington reigned in his temper. "I hardly think the clothes he is wearing will make a difference, sir," he said through gritted teeth. The General shook his head stubbornly and with a hint of triumph. He was still Tavington's superior after all. And any victory, however petty, was a victory nonetheless.

"It's a disgrace!" he said with mock horror. "What message would it send those rebels if he were to be captured in nothing but civilian clothes? Do you want them to think that your men are as common as they are?"

"Sir," Tavington persisted but Cornwallis _in_sisted.

"Absolutely not, Colonel. He will remain here until a replacement is found." He smiled amicably at the mortified soldier. "Go on inside and see what you can find. You can catch up later." Tavington glared at his mentor but said nothing. Protesting was futile. The General slapped a look that parodied Tavington's trademark satisfied smirk on his face and waved for him to go ahead. "Continue, Colonel Tavington. I shall expect a good report in the near future."

Tavington saluted brusquely and motioned for his men to move out. The General nodded at the poor uniformless soldier and went back inside, feeling very pleased with himself.

Once back in his office, Cornwallis's thoughts turned to the exchange he had witnessed in the stables between the Colonel and his daughter. Frowning, he remembered that he hadn't seen her outside that morning. He clucked sympathetically. The poor child. She must be very lonely and distraught. Cornwallis rang for a servant.

"Yes sir?"

"Go fetch Miss Tavington and invite her to my office for tea," he instructed. The servant left with an obedient bob of the head and Cornwallis settled back into his chair, folding his hands behind his head. He was surprised by his own generosity. Surely the girl would cheer up now.

There was a hesitant knock and the servant appeared again. The General sat up, a little annoyed. "What is it?" he asked.

"Well, it's Miss Tavington, sir," the servant replied nervously.

"Yes? What about her?"

"She's gone."

---

Alys Tavington was excruciatingly hot. She was excruciatingly tired. And she was excruciatingly uncomfortable. Marching in the far back of the formation in boots far too large for her, she had to wipe the sweat from her eyes just to be able to see. How did these men stand it? The red and green coats were thick and heavy, holding in the heat. Her legs burned and she cursed herself for following through on this half-baked scheme.

Her greatest fear is that one of the soldiers would recognize her. She had been no stranger to them over the last few days. She had done her best to conceal her femininity, binding her ample chest so tightly that it was difficult to breath. But her hair was already boyishly short and she worried that the hat and dirt she wore would not be enough to disguise her from those that knew her well.

So she hid herself in the back with the slower, less competent men she never had bothered with before. She felt a little sorry for the snobbery as now she was a more pathetic excuse for a soldier. She gripped her weapon and pressed on grimly. It didn't matter. As long as she could get to Tavington once the fighting started, if would be worth it.

The man was cruel. He was heartless. Alys knew she should be praying for his slow, painful death. But the man was also her father and the one person she now had left in the world. Fate certainly hadn't done her any favors. Her eyes stung as she thought of her mother. She had died alone, with no one to stroke her hair or hold her hand as she breathed her last. That was her fault and she would not allow it to happen again to her father.

There was a sound in the bushes and every Dragoon readied their muskets. Alys knelt and loaded her own, looking far down the line at her father mounted on his horse. Was this it? She wondered how much time she would have and how many men she would have to shoot. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized she had never actually shot a living person before.

But it was not rebels that came bursting through the bush. It was the man whose uniform she had stolen, now wearing a faded and threadbare coat of a common British infantryman instead of the regal coat of a Dragoon. Tavington sighed with impatience and motioned for his second, the quiet and efficient Captain Bordon to handle it. The soldier whispered in the Captain's ear and Bordon rode back to Tavington with a distressed look on his face.

"Well?" Tavington demanded. "What is it?"

"It's your daughter, sir," Bordon said, frowning worriedly. "The General has just sent word with the Private that she's gone missing. They can't find her anywhere."

Alys held her breath and watched her father react. He seemed stunned. He opened his mouth to speak, then looked down at his hands. Was that concern on his face? Her heart leapt hopefully. _Yes!_ she urged him mentally._ Go back! Look for me! Turn this whole thing around and come find me!_ Finally, the Colonel looked up resolutely at Bordon.

"Keep moving," he said sharply and spurred his horse. Alys sighed in disappointment. Oh well.

---

She slept far away from the fire that night and occupied herself with doodling on a few scraps of paper. It was nonsense, but no one would bother her if they thought she was composing a letter.

The wind blew and she shivered. How could it be this cold when not six hours before she was melting? Every bone in her body ached. She didn't dare at her feet, fearful that they wouldn't be there they were so numb with pain. Her shoulder was tight from carrying the musket and her heels were covered in blisters from the man's boots. And to top it all off, her father had proven once again that she didn't mean a tuppence to him. Never in her life had she felt so broken. She longed for her mother to wrap her arms around her and sing as she had when Alys was little. A sob escaped her lips and she bit down on her sleeve to keep silent. When she had gained control of her emotions, she picked up the pencil and paper again. This time, she started a letter to her father.

_Dear Father,_

_I hate you._

She sighed and scratched that out. As good as it would feel to say that, it was not the sentiment she was trying to communicate. She tried again and again, finally settling when she was too fatigued to go on. She tucked the letter into her coat and fell asleep.

---

A/N: Yes, I'm sorry. I went with the whole "girl joins the army" thing. I know it's cliche, but I have high hopes! Hope you enjoyed it and please come back soon for more!


	8. Under Fire!

A/N: You came back! Thank you! Thank you again for your support and encouragement. It means so much to me. Sorry about the couple of typos in the last chapter. I'll proofread more carefully in this one. Happy Reading!

---

The next morning, Alys had to use her musket as a crutch to even stand up, she was so stiff. She winced and stretched her legs, trying to get her blood moving. The others were up and about, taking a quick breakfast before moving off again. The sun hadn't even risen yet and a cool fog still clung to the grasses. Alys shivered and buttoned her Dragoon jacket. Then she shuffled over to one of the campfires and grabbed a piece of hardtack to munch on. She stuck out her tongue in disgust. It was God-awful. But she choked it down and readied her things.

---

Captain Bordon had his boots off by the fire and was munching on a piece of bacon that he was striving to keep hidden from the other men. The Loyalist Captain Wilkins approached and sat down, turning his helmet over in his hands. Bordon chewed and swallowed hurriedly and stuffed the rest into his pocket. Wilkins wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention. He was carefully watching the Colonel Tavington.

"What are you looking at?" Bordon asked, wiping his lips.

Wilkins shook his head. "I just can't believe it," he said. "The man's daughter, his little girl, is missing and he's not even bothered. I've got a little girl of my own at home and if I ever heard even a rumor of something happening to her, I would be out of here so fast... Not really, of course," he added when Bordon shot him a calculating look. "But you can bet I would be pretty distraught."

"The Colonel is a responsible man if nothing else," said Bordon. "And he also realizes what responsibilities must take precedence over the others."

"It just ain't right," Wilkins said.

Bordon smiled as he began to feel rarely cruel. "Why don't you go talk to the Colonel about it?" he said encouragingly. "Maybe all he needs is the input of an outsider to get his priorities in order. I'm sure he will greatly appreciate your advice."

Wilkins wasn't buying it. "No thank you," he said and stood up. "I'd get a more favorable result if I covered myself in molasses and walked into a bee hive." Bordon shrugged and covertly tore off another strip of bacon.

A good thirty or forty meters away, the Colonel was rubbing polish onto his already spotless boots. Wilkins cocked his head and stared. Bordon chuckled to himself. The young man was alright, but just to ignorant for his own good. Though they did not speak much, Bordon knew Tavington better than anyone and he knew better than to pry into his personal life.

But Wilkins would need to learn at some point. "Go on," Bordon said. "You want to anyway."

Wilkins sighed and put his helmet back on and stood up. "It'll only torture me otherwise," he rationalized then headed over.

"Sir?" Tavington did not look up, but nodded slowly to show that he was at least recognizing Wilkins's presence. Wilkins hesitated . He was so accustomed to the Colonels face and it's passive, perpetually smug expression. Even when riding into battle, he was collected and in command of himself. But now Wilkins noticed his forehead was tense and his eyes were anxious. "Are you alright sir?"

Tavington looked up sharply. "Now why do you ask that, Captain?" he said, not even attempting to cover the threat in his voice. Wilkins stuttered and the Colonel went on, not waiting for a coherent answer. "I am doing very well, Wilkins, unless you have a reason for me not to be."

Over by the campfire, Bordon was snickering. Wilkins felt his face go red as Tavington once more concentrated on his boots. He shot a glare at the other Captain and took a resolute breath.

"It's not too late, sir," he said.

"Too late for what, Wilkins?" Tavington answered, uninterested.

"You still have time to go back and look for her," he continued earnestly. "Turn around and go find her. Or, let Captain Bordon and I carry on while you go back alone. Nobody would say anything against you for that." Tavington stood up, annoyed.

"Wilkins, who the devil are you talking about?"

"Well, your daughter, sir," Wilkins stammered. Tavington raised his eyebrows.

"Daughter?"

"Sir!" Wilkins protested.

"I'm not being coy, Captain, I know perfectly well who you are talking about. I am merely expressing my incredulity that you would even suggest such a thing." Tavington said, with his infuriating air of superiority. "Unlike those fools in the regulars or your friends in the colonial militia, I am a dedicated _soldier_. I do my duty and nothing, certainly not my personal life, keeps me from that. And I would hope a man of your commitment to King George would conduct himself the same way. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir," Wilkins said softly. He turned to go.

"And Wilkins?" Colonel Tavington called him back. "If you ever again bring up the private affairs of my family, I will rip your eyes out." Wilkins blinked. The Colonel sighed and waved his hand dismissively as if nothing had happened. "That is all."

Bordon was rolling with laughter. As he passed him, Wilkins hissed, "I hope you choke on that bacon." Bordon sat up and put a protective hand over the meat, still giggling.

Wilkins threw himself down and began to furiously clean his musket. A young Private approached him.

"I heard all that over there," he said. Wilkins snorted. The Private smiled. "No. I mean, I wanted to say thanks. That was very good of you."

"Yeah?" Wilkins looked up.

"Really," said the Private. "A lot of us are really partial to Miss Tavington. Me especially. And we're worried about her. So, thanks for the concern." Wilkins allowed himself a satisfied smile.

"You're very welcome, Fields."

---

They were moving again before there had been time for the air to heat up. Tavington rode at the head, Bordon by his side, the rest of the cavalry trailed behind, followed by the unfortunate new recruits, who just had to make due walking. Alys was one of them.

Bordon watched the Colonel from the corner of his eye, looking for the nervousness that Wilkins had noticed. The Colonel was as cool as could be, except that every so often he would retreat into himself, paying no attention to the surrounding area. So. He _was_ distracted. Bordon coughed abruptly.

Tavington started out of his daze. "What?" he snapped. "Are you catching the sniffles?"

"What are you thinking about, sir?" Bordon asked nonchalantly, studying his fingernails.

"I am thinking that my officers are becoming very inquire some of late and they should be focusing on the tasks I've given them." Tavington curled his lip menacingly. Bordon was not phased.

"Are you certain you're not preoccupied about a specific runaway young lady in immediate relation to yourself?" he pressed.

Tavington looked at him as if he would like to breathe fire, then sighed and faced front. "What a stupid, childish thing to do," he murmured. Bordon nodded sympathetically. "Tell me, Bordon, do you have children?"

"No sir, I do not."

"Good." Tavington kicked his horse into a faster pace and called over his shoulder, "Don't!"

---

From the bushes, Benjamin Martin's blood boiled. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from grinding and handed his spyglass to his son, Gabriel. "There he is," he hissed. Gabriel nodded and slid the spyglass closed.

"Don't get eager," he said, placing a steadying hand on his father's shoulder. "We have to wait until they're in range."

"I know that," Ben said, irritably. But he knew Gabriel was right to tell him. He would have liked nothing better than to charge towards those murdering animals right then and there, but what would that accomplish. He smiled halfheartedly at his son and patted him on the back. Then, he picked up his musket. "I'll wait for your signal, Corporal."

---

Something whistled by Alys's nose and struck the man in front of her in the throat. He fell to the ground, spluttering. Alys gasped in horror, only thankful that she didn't scream. More musket balls whizzed through the air, dropping a few more soldiers. There was a moment of general panic as everyone realized they were being attacked. "Left face!" she hear her father roar and she dropped to her knees to load her musket. The Colonel drew his saber and pointed it straight at the woods from where the volley of fire was coming. "Attack!"

The men rushed forward, yelling ferociously. Alys struggled to her feet, legs protesting sincerely and followed. She did her best to stay low, having no idea where they were aiming. She expected they were aiming at anyone. Men were hit to her left and to her right and then they were in the woods.

Brown coated militia men flitted like spirits between the trees. The Dragoons sought them out and hacked a few to pieces. Gunfire, her favorite sound, now mingled with the screams of dying men. Alys clutched her musket to her chest in fear. Then, she caught a glimpse of the Ghost, stealing through the ranks in a manner true to his name. She started toward him, but a rebel rose up in her path, barrel pointed right in her face. She swung up the stock of her gun instinctively and knocked it away. The man thrust his bayonet. She parried desperately and struck him in the forehead. He hit the ground like a rock, blood pouring down his face, chest rising and falling steadily. She sighed with relief, but when she took a step, her legs folded underneath her. An empty fluttering pit replaced her stomach. She crawled to a nearby tree on shaking hands and knees and pulled herself upright.

Someone fell into her, nearly pushing her down again. Private Fields whirled around and looked at her, eyes wide with panic, hands gripping his bayonet. Alys froze, barely daring to breath, but Fields recognized her uniform and not her face and gave her a swift squeeze on the shoulder before moving around the tree.

Alys turned around and followed him with her eyes. He crept silently along the ground, twisting his head in search for the enemy. But he overlooked one. Skulking in the brush behind his was a grim faced rebel, slowly cocking his musket. Alys didn't even think. She sprang up and charged at Fields, knocking him to the ground as the musket cracked, sending a ball hurtling through the air where their vital organs had been. It only took Fields a moment to regain his senses before he sent a musket ball of his own straight into the other man's chest. As the man fell, Fields turned to Alys and shook her hand in extreme gratitude. "Thank you!" he gasped and then ran off again.

A horse whinnied majestically and Alys whirled to see her father hack a man in two. The rebels were beginning to flee now, but still the Colonel pursued, bringing down as many as he could. Alys felt sick. But the Dragoons let out a cheer as the militia sounded the retreat.


	9. Discovered

A/N: Heya, folks! Here's another hot plate of fanfiction, ready to be devoured. Hope you like it!

---

As the sun sank lower in the sky and the land was bathed in an orange glow, the Dragoons camped in the safety of a little glade. Crickets and other equally musical insects filled the air with their songs. A tent was set up for the few wounded. Alys wondered what would become of those that had died.

She looked across the clearing to where her fathers perched on a stump, meticulously wiping the blood from his saber. A sickly, cold shiver flew up Alys's spine as "The Butcher" finally made sense. He had cut those men as a butch would slice the throats of animal before hacking them into pieces. Never had she seen such ruthlessness. Never. He swept his rag up and down the length of the blade. _And he doesn't even think twice about it,_ she marveled. _Well, he doesn't need me here at all._

The sound of snapping twigs and crunching grass caused her to turn away from her father and look over her shoulder. Fields stood there, looking exhausted but unhurt. He grinned at her and his teeth shone through the dirt and sweat on her face.

"Hey," he said and plopped down next to her, extending his hand. She shook it warily and pulled the brim of her hat down to hide her face. "I wanted to thank you again. I think you saved my life back there."

Pride conquered Alys's fear for a moment and she said, keeping her voice low and masculine, "What do you mean, 'think'?"

Fields smiled even wider and he laughed a little. "Alright. You definitely saved me and for that I am forever grateful to you."

Alys smiled into her chest. "It was nothing," she said. Fields said nothing for a moment and twiddled his thumbs uncomfortably. With a wry appreciation for the irony, Alys thought of their awkward interaction at the ball. Truly, boys would be boys, no matter what the situation.

Then he jumped up. "Thanks aren't good enough," he said firmly and pulled her to her feet. "I'm going to tell the Colonel of your bravery and recommend you for a higher position."

Alys resisted. No! He'd know her! "Really," she said. "You don't have to do that. It was nothing! Your thanks is plenty for me!" But Fields was already pulling her along.

"Nonsense," he said. As much as Alys resisted, the boy was much stronger than her. Curse those soldiers and their vigorous training!

"Please, don't," she begged. Fields turned around and stared hard at her face, searching for something. Alys looked down swiftly. Fields smiled gently.

"Don't be embarrassed," he said and pulled her off again. Alys groaned mentally. This was it. She was going to be discovered and given the verbal, if not literal, lashing of her life. Then she'd be sent back to Middleton Place while her friends and father were killed. She rolled her eyes bitterly and wished she had died in that last attack.

"Colonel!" Fields called. Tavington looked up, already disinterested.

"What is it, Private?" he said with infinite patience.

Fields gulped but stood his ground, bowing humbly but keeping his voice strong and clear. "I only wish to bring this young man to your attention, sir," he said, motioning to Alys who was lingering behind him. "He did more than just his duties as a soldier in the skirmish today. I owe him my life."

Tavington raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" he said, looking beyond Fields to Alys trying desperately to disappear. "Well come then, boy, step forward." He smirked derisively.

Alys obeyed, bracing herself for imminent doom. Then, eyes still on the ground, she saw her chance! The earth was wet from South Carolina's classic humidity and some places were just a little soggier than others. One of those places happened to be two feet in front of her. With a great effort to make it seem natural, Alys stumbled and fell, landing face down in the mud.

Colonel Tavington looked amused as Fields helped her up. She wiped her face off, but not too much, so that a coat of black mud still concealed her features. "Well, well," the Colonel said, lips curling upwards into a little smile. "I'd say it's a worthy accomplishment that you yourself survived the day." He picked up a sheet of paper and made a little note on it. "Rest assured that I will tell the General of your heroism and you will be rewarded."

Alys nodded and tried to hide a grin. It was too delicious. She would have loved to see the look on her fathers face if he had know just who it was that was so heroic. Added to that, she had mud on her face. What could be sillier? "Thank you very much sir!" she said, a bit of a giggle in her voice.

Tavington suddenly looked up at her and drew very close, peering into her eyes as if he was peering into her soul. "What did you say your name was, Private?" he asked suspiciously. Alys cursed herself. What had possessed her to speak?

"Um, ...Jacob ...D-Danvers, at your service, sir," she said soberly. Tavington held her there for a moment longer, then relaxed.

"Very well, Mister Danvers," he said. "I thank you for your brave service today. Carry on." Alys bowed and turned away, letting her breath out in a _whoosh_ once she was out of earshot. Bidding goodbye to Fields, she wondered how many years that encounter had taken off her life.

---

Alys removed her boots and gasped with delight as she slid her feet into the cool, clean water of the stream. She knew she'd heard the sound of running water and seeing as she was hot, tired, sweaty and covered in more filth than anyone else, she'd gone off in search of it. To her great pleasure, she found it just a ten minute walk from the encampment. Close enough that she wouldn't get lost and far enough away that she would be safe from peepers and discovery.

After a preliminary look-around to make sure she was completely alone, she stripped off everything - leggings, breeches, coat, shirt and the infernal bandages she used to conceal her curved chest, all of it - went into a pile on a big rock. She hopped back and put the coat back on, just for modesty's sake. Then she waded out into the middle of the stream, almost laughing out loud with pleasure. The water was so good! She kicked her feet around, splashing water up her legs, then cupped it in her hands and poured it over her neck, torso, face, hair. It trickled slowly over her skin - a fantastically beautiful feeling.

And she couldn't have found a more tranquil place. The setting sun glittered on the rushing water and the stones like thousands of jewels. The bugs churred and a few birds whistled and a breeze blew through the trees around her in gentle, soothing hush. She felt as if she was the only human being on the planet. _I would like to be an Indian,_ she thought. _So I could bathe like this every day._ She closed her eyes and listened to the evening's sounds.

A splash startled her out of her reverie. She spun around to see Fields standing by her clothes, staring at her in shock.

"I knew it!" he said, pointing his finger at her, half in triumph, half in anger. "I knew I recognized you!"

"Don't look at me!" Alys shrieked and pulled her stolen coat tightly around her. Fields averted his eyes long enough for her to button up and splash back for her breeches. When she was halfway decent, he started in on her.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!" he demanded. She crossed her arms and scowled like a little girl. "This isn't a game!" he continued. "Men died today! You could have gotten killed yourself!"

"I'm not playing at any game!" she shouted back. "And if I hadn't been there today you wouldn't be here now, so there!"

"God damn it, Alys!" He fumed and paced and glared at her, but he couldn't speak. "This is really dangerous!" he said finally. Alys laughed at him and he became angrier. "I'm serious! I think you should go home immediately!"

Alys looked around. "I don't think I even know the way back," she said bluntly. Fields groaned and threw his hands up in the air. "Will you calm down!" Alys said, trying to maintain a level of maturity. "Considering I don't have any of your training, I think I handled myself very well out there. You have nothing to worry about. You already know I'm a terrific shot."

Fields nodded, unconvinced. "Uh huh, uh huh, yes. You're a good shot when you're shooting at practice dummies and canteens. But that's nothing compared to shooting a real person." Alys's frowned, her confidence punctured. Fields knew he'd got her there. "Did you shoot at anyone today?" he asked. "Did you kill anyone? Because let me tell you, there is nothing like that, _nothing_!" His face was white and intense. "If you stay, you'll eventually have to do it. I don't think you want that."

Alys sighed and shivered. The quickly cooling air was even colder on her wet skin and hair. "You don't understand," she said to Fields. "You lose everything if you fight. I lose everything if I don't. Do you see? I don't care about myself. If my father dies, I got nothing left." She met his eyes desperately. "I don't want to be alone," she whispered.

"But you were out there today! You saw how it was!" Fields protested. "Do you really think you can protect him?" Alys smiled sadly.

Fields groaned but he could not deny the compassion he felt for her situation and the respect for her bravery. "Fine!" he relented, angry at his weakness. Alys smiled and embraced him.

"Thank you, Fields," she said.

"Don't mention it," he grumbled, trying to hide his pleasure. "And it's David."

Alys nodded. "Thank you, David."

"Don't mention it," he said again and blushed. He looked at her in the soldier's uniform and had to laugh. "How did you ever hide those?" he chuckled, pointing to her breasts.

Alys swatted him in indignation. "That is none of you business!" she snapped and hit him again. He fended her off and she crossed her arms over her chest. He laughed again.

"You're a skillful girl," he said and had to dodge another smack. But looking up he saw that Alys was laughing as well. He was suddenly overcome with admiration and affection, as well as the desire to never, ever see her get hurt. He took her hand and pulled her to him. "Are you sure there's nothing I can say to make you go back to Middleton Place? Where you'll be safe?" he asked sadly.

"Nothing," Alys answered firmly, looking directly up at him. Fields sighed.

"Then there's nothing," he said. Alys smiled playfully and shook her head.

"No," she said. "And you don't want to fight me. I'm a big girl."

Fields smiled slyly. "Not so big that I can't do this!" And with that, he picked up her sturdy, compact frame, swung her around and kissed her.


	10. Rebel, Rebel

A/N: Hee hee, thank you for your reviews! Those last chapters were a real treat to write. Hopefully it'll only get better! Thanks again and the Patriot still isn't mine.

---

Alys went to sleep with Fields's kiss still burning on her lips and dreamed sweet, warm dreams. Colonel Tavington, on the other hand, did not get much sleep at all. He lay on his mat, hands behind his head, staring angrily at the ceiling of his tent and cursing elusive slumber. He tried several angles and positions but just could not get comfortable. And whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the tearful face of a blonde-haired, brown-eyed woman.

He groaned harshly and turned over on his side. Lucy and Alys. Alys and Lucy. The women he had hurt so terribly. Was this guilt he was feeling? He lashed out at the ground with his heel, growling with frustration. Bordon, who was on watch outside, stuck his head in.

"Everything alright, sir?"

Tavington held his palms tightly to his temples, striving desperately to drive all the tormenting thoughts from his mind. He turned to look at his Captain wearily. "Piss off, Bordon," he said.

Bordon scanned the area briefly for intruders or eavesdroppers, then ducked inside and hunkered down next to the Colonel. Tavington eyed him with distrust but he merely patted the seething man on the shoulder. "You're worried about something," he said.

Tavington snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."

"A bonde-haired, appled-cheeked, young someone, perhaps," Bordon continued. Tavington rolled his eyes and twisted to face the other way. Bordon nodded compassionately. "It's alright. I understand, sir."

"I'm telling you, Bordon, you couldn't be further off."

It was Bordons turn to roll his eyes. "Everyone can see it, sir," he said.

Tavington sat up and glared at him. "Is that so?" Bordon shook his head yes and studied his superior's face.

"You are behaving in a way you never have before, sir," he said, concern in his eyes. "At times you are like a different person. Your mind isn't on the search." He paused. "What did you say to her, sir, that it's affecting you this way?"

Tavington fought the unwelcome lump that formed in his throat as he recalled Alys's grief-stricken face and desolate weeping. "I told her I would rather she was dead," he whispered and the harshness of those words revolted him. But he composed himself and faced Bordon with a face of stone. "And I would say the same thing to her again."

Bordon sighed and went back outside. There was no point in talking to that man. He was a self-made island and he would die as one.

Satisfied, Tavington laid back down and closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids he saw that tragic smile, those soft eyes and a dancing girl in a white dress. He breathed deeply and followed Bordon.

The Captain said nothing as Tavington too a seat. "I suppose _these_ are the true trials of being a father," the man mused. "And I was thinking that being shouldered with the brat was bad enough in itself. I had no intention of ever being concerned for her."

"So go back," Bordon said simply. Tavington raged that his Captain spouted off suggestions so casually, as if they merely came to him. Any dolt could have said that. "There's plenty of time before morning," the Captain reasoned. "No one would even know you'd gone."

Tavington looked at his snoozing horse. Surely if he traveled at a quick enough place, he could get to Middleton place and back by daybreak. The girl had probably returned there after an hour and was resting peacefully. The very idea made his blood hot. How dare she cause him so much distress!

"I wouldn't give her or you the satisfaction," he sneered.

"No, but you could give yourself the peace of mind," said Bordon. He stood and tilted his head up to gaze at the dazzling night sky. "A man, hard and untouchable, is subjected to feelings beyond his control when he comes in contact with another remarkable person." He smiled to himself thoughtfully and cast a sideways glance at the Colonel, who was glowering at him heavily. "I don't know, sir," he continued. "That sounds a bit like love to me." Bordon laughed as Tavington's eyes widened and he strolled off to enjoy his little victory.

"You make me sick!" Tavington called after him.

---

Alys was awakened long before any of the others had even stirred by a gentle nudge in the small of her back. She rolled over and squinted groggily up at the boyish face of Captain Wilkins. "Rise and shine, Miss Tavington," he said with a wry smile on his face. Alys bolted upright. Beyond Wilkins, Fields was shuffling his feet sheepishly.

"I ought to cut you tongue out," Alys said.

"Now, I don't think that will be necessary," Wilkins said with a kind smile on his face. He knelt down and placed a hand on Alys's shoulder. "David explained everything to me. That's quite the secret, little miss."

Alys met his eyes with the fierce stare of a lioness. "I'm not going back," she said quietly. Wilkins shivered. That silent power came from her father.

"Yes, he told me that too. And I'm sure there's nothing and no one who can make you and that sort of thing." Alys nodded. Wilkins chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Alys folded her arms and glared at Fields. "Have you told anyone else?" she demanded.

"No," Fields answered meekly. "But I had to tell _somebody_!"

Alys tossed her head angrily. "You're a dirty traitor," she stated flatly. Fields hung his head, but Wilkins also felt the sting of those words.

"No, no. He was right," he said reassuringly. "We may not be able to force you back to Middleton Place, but here are certain measures I can take, strings I can pull, to protect you."

"I don't need protection..." Alys began.

"Yes. You do." Fields spoke up sharply. She scowled at him, but he matched her back and then some.

"We all run the risk of dying out here," Wilkins said. "But we have our training to keep us safe. And while I _know_ you have a sharp eye when shooting," Alys had opened her mouth to interject. "That won't help you in the thick of a battle. It's a miracle you're still alive. There isn't much we can do, but Fields and I can be close by. The Colonel's splitting us up tomorrow. I'll make sure I go with him as his second. I'll at least be able to keep an eye on you."

Fields looked at her. "Is that _agreeable_ Alys?"

"I don't have much choice, do I? Who are you going to tell about me next? Bordon? Or my father? Maybe they can protect me too!"

"Maybe I'll let them and not bother myself!"

"I wish you would!"

Field took her by the shoulders and brought her so they were staring at each other nose to nose. "Your father doesn't care about you," he said emphatically. "_I_ care about you a great deal. And since I can't keep you from danger, please let me try to keep danger from you." Alys hung her head, ashamed but not willing to admit it.

"Thank you," she said softly. Fields relaxed and squeezed her shoulder.

"You saved my life," he said. "You have to know I'd to the same for you a thousand times over again." Wilkins smile, touched, but at the same time anxiety gnawed at the pit of his stomach. This was an offense worthy of a discharge, not to mention the moral questions his mind was raising. Bringing the girl felt almost as wrong to him as Tavington's indifference toward her. But he forced his lips into a smile of confidence and beamed at her brightly.

"You'll be safe with me," he said solidly, hoping she would believe those words, especially coming from him. "In every way." Alys nodded finally.

"Alright."

---

The next day the sun rose hot and the air hung heavily over the land. Tavington motioned his two Captains over to him. "Wilkins, I want you to take these men and question the locals. Use whatever force you have to. Bordon, you and I will take this lot and scour the area for any traces of militia encampment." He motioned to a group of Dragoons, Alys included.

Wilkins looked at Alys and stepped up quickly. "Excuse me, sir, but I may not be the best person to handle locals. They know me as a traitor. I don't think I'll get any cooperation from them."

Bordon pointed his finger in a warning at Wilkins. "Remember who gives the orders around here, Captain."

Tavington stroked his chin thoughtfully. "No, Bordon, he's right." Bordon withdrew reluctantly and Wilkins shot Alys a smile. She grinned back. "Besides," Tavington continued. "I doubt that you'll have any trouble, eh, _encouraging_ these colonists. I know where you're loyalties lie."

Wilkins flushed scarlet, but bowed and mounted his horse. Bordon nodded to him and led his group off. Tavington waited until he was well on his way, then waved the remaining men out. As Wilkins rode by Alys, he whispered, "Stay close." She rolled her eyes but stuck to his side like glue, keeping her eye constantly on the Colonel.

As the day wore on, it only grew hotter. Tavington had them marching out in the open fields, but Alys eyed the cool, dark woods longingly. Wilkins wiped his brow.

"Hey." Alys tugged at his pants leg. He looked down at her as she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "I want you to give this to my father," she said.

Wilkins resisted. "Nothing is going to happen to you."

"No, no. It's nothing like that," she said. "The thing is," She blushed, embarrassed. "I'm too scared to give it to him myself. I just can't work up the nerve. And it would be a rather foolish thing to do now, the way I am." She waved the letter at him. "Will you just please give it to him? You can just say you found it. Please."

Wilkins took it. "Nothing about death and darkness," he warned sternly. "I don't want to hear any of that."

Alys shook her head. "Just a letter from a daughter to her father."

Hidden in the cover of the trees, Dan Scott loaded his musket and spit on the ground. A few other men sat ready close by. They watched, dead quiet as the Dragoons rode past, unaware of heir coat buttons glinting in the sunlight.

A sparkle from the woods caught Alys's eye. She tried to get Wilkins's attention, but he was already riding ahead. She hesitated while the other Dragoons past her, and slowly made her way over to the tree line. Nothing awaited her there but shadows and decomposing leaves on the ground. But then a twig snapped! Cautiously, Alys walked deeper into the forest, holding her musket ready. Everything was still.

Then, a rustle to her left made her swing round and she came face to face with a young man holding his gun leveled right at her. There were more sounds and more men jumped out from behind the trees and bushes. She felt something sharp poking into her back and she spun around to see another man lunge at her with a large knife. Without even thinking about it, she thrust her bayonet forward. The man made a horrible gurgling noise as it went right through his gut. Eyes wide, he groped at the weapon, struggling to pull it out. Alys dropped the gun and backed away in horror. The man sank to his knees and collapsed, dying with one final, rattling breath.

A good seven or eight muskets clicked and were ready to fire, but Alys didn't hear them. Her eyes were fixed on the dead man on the ground, the man she had just killed. Her mouth was open and trembling in speechlessness. She looked up at the man in front of her. He looked from his fallen friend to her aghast face, spit and aimed his gun, expression cold and merciless. Alys closed her eyes and waited.

"Hold it right there."

Benjamin Martin, his son Gabriel and the rest of the militia ran out from the trees. Martin approached the young man and tore his musket away. "Dan Scott, I ordered no attack. All of you, lower your weapons." He drew his pistol and trained it on Alys. "But don't you move, boy, or I promise you: you will be shot." Alys gulped and obeyed but her eyes still flew to the dead man.

"This little bastard killed Edwards!" the man called Scott raged.

Gabriel threw an angry glare at him. "If you had been patient, it never would have happened!" he accused. "We're not strong enough for another attack! We need time to regroup!"

Ben drew close to the white-faced young man who couldn't have been older than sixteen. He felt a stab at his heart when he looked at him. So young. It was a crime. "What's your name?" he asked softly.

The boy did not answer, but gaped at Edwards's body. Ben motioned with his pistol to get his attention. "Son?" The boy looked up, then down and then back up at Martin.

"I'm sorry," he croaked. Ben's eyes widened with surprise. The boy swallowed. "I'm so sorry." Gabriel came over and laid a hand on Benjamin's shoulder.

"Father," he said. Ben uncocked his pistol and walked to the trembling young soldier. A glint of gold around his neck caught his attention. He reached out and tugged off a small, delicate locket. The boy made a sound of protest, but at Gabriel's sharp look, he fell silent. Ben carefully opened the locket and gasped with shock and triumph.

"Are you Colonel William Tavington's son?" he asked slowly and carefully. The desire to kill him and settle his score with the Colonel then and there was so strong it was almost unbearable. _Do it!_ screamed a voice in his head. _A son for a son and then it's over!_ But Gabriel was watching with a flicker of worry in his eyes. Ben shook the voice off and pocketed the locket, a slow grin spreading across his face.

"Well, aren't we lucky you didn't shoot him, Dan?" he laughed. "This one's going to be a lot of use to us."

---

_**"Rebel, rebel, you've torn your dress/ Rebel, rebel, you're face is a mess/ Rebel, rebel, how could they know?/ Hot tramp, I love you so!**_

Sorry, David Bowie just visited my brain there! Hope you liked it!


	11. Tears and Fears and Feeling Proud

A/N: Dah dah-dah DAH! And it's Ben Martin (whom I do not own) to the rescue! Sort of. And the other militia men whom I also do not own. In fact, the only people in this story I do own are Alys Tavington and David Fields. Thank you for sticking with it! I hope I'm keeping you entertained! Please keep those reviews a-comin!

---

Wilkins cursed himself again and again as he rode back and forth over the ground they had covered that day. Of all the idiotic things he could have done, why did he have to let her out of his sight?! Fields was back at the encampment, searching among the men, but Wilkins did not get his hopes up. The Colonel hadn't even noticed the girl's absence. She was just another faceless recruit to him. He, however, would be missed. Better to return now without the girl no one knew was gone than be late and have to explain everything. Wilkins scanned the field and tree line one final time before galloping back to the Dragoons. He fought the fear and sadness that was eating at his heart. If anything happened to that girl, he would never forgive himself.

---

Alys sat on a log, surrounded by miles of swamp, hands tied behind her back. She knew she should have been worried about what these men were going to do to her and what Wilkins was going to do to her when she got back. If she got back. But instead, she kept seeing the dying eyes of the man she had stabbed. She heard his last choking gasps replayed over and over. It did her no good to look elsewhere - his face was projected on every one she saw. Fields's words at the creek came back to her. _There's nothing like killing someone. Nothing._ A sob wracked her body as the truth of those words sank in. More tears came as she realized she might never see David Fields again. Or Wilkins. Or her father. She was a murderer and they would kill her for it. A frightened moan escaped from her lips.

A gentle hand on her shoulder made her jump. A young man with blonde hair and kind brown eyes knelt by her side. Embarrassed, Alys tried to stop up her crying and wipe her eyes on her coat. Easier said than done with her hands tied behind her back.

"I'm Gabriel Martin," the young man said. Her could only be a year or so older than her. After a slight hesitation, he reached out with his own sleeve and wiped the tears from her face. She smiled at him, gratefully. Both were quiet for a long while.

"That man," Alys sniffed finally, struggling to keep her voice low through her tears. "The one I..." She couldn't say it. She gulped. "What - What was his name?"

Gabriel looked at the young Dragoon, touched. "Edwards," he answered softly. "Elias Edwards." The boy nodded and sobbed again.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I'm so, so sorry."

Gabriel was silent with pity. He touched the boy's knee, trying to be of some comfort, but it did very little. Truth be told, he felt a little intrusive, listening to him cry. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Alys...ter - Alister," the boy replied and winced. Gabriel smiled slightly. He would have been a little embarrassed of that name too.

"You don't have to be scared, Alister," he said warmly. "My father is a good man. You won't be hurt."

"He ought to spill his entrails onto the ground," Villeneuve scoffed as he walked by and Gabriel frowned at him reprovingly. The boy paled. Luckily, Benjamin chose that moment to enter.

"How's he doing?" he asked Gabriel.

"A little shaky but just fine, right Alister?" Gabriel patted the boy on the back.

"'Alister', is it?" Ben smirked but covered it. Then he got down to business. "I need to know about your father, Alister," he said. The boy's face became guarded.

"I can't tell you anything. I won't."

Ben nodded, his dark eyes gentle, but he kept his face stern. "I can understand that," he said. "But you are now our prisoner of war and there's no point in keeping you around if you won't give us any information."

"So you'll let me go?" the boy looked up hopefully. Ben chuckled.

"Heh. No." He took out the locket and opened it. "That's a very pretty lady," he said. "Your mother?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure she's very proud of you."

"I wouldn't know, sir," the boys swallowed, blinking back tears. "She's dead."

Gabriel's heart swelled with sympathy and he met his father's eyes. Ben's face lost that hard look as he scooted closer to the young soldier.

"How old are you, son?" he asked softly.

"Nineteen," he answered without missing a beat. Gabriel stifled a laugh. No way. But Ben's look became thoughtful.

"My wife died six years ago," he said. "I have seven - ... six children. Gabriel is my oldest. My son Thomas was fifteen. Your father shot him when he tried to save Gabriel from hanging at the hands of the Dragoons."

A wave of sorrow passed over Alister's face. "Oh no," he murmured. He tilted his head up to look Ben in the eye. His young face was fraught with compassion. "I'm so sorry," he said. Ben nodded quietly.

"So, Alister, you see that I don't fight merely for a free nation or all whatever else you may have heard. I have a personal stake in this war and in your father." Alister licked his lips and looked at Ben with a little more force.

"I know you want to kill him," he said darkly.

Ben couldn't deny it. "Surely you can understand that."

"I can, Mister Martin, but surely _you_ can understand that loyalty between... fathers and... sons is not only found in the colonies." He sighed painfully. "I have come to learn, sir, over the past few days, who and what my father is. And while his... cruelties cause me great sorrow, he is still my father. My allegiance is not to the British Crown, but to him."

Ben was impressed by the eloquence of the boys speech. He shook his head in confusion. "What are you doing mixed up in all of this, son?" The boy shrugged and looked at him. His innocence broke Ben's heart. He had struggled to protect his own children from the evils of war and brutal men, but he saw in the boy's eyes the despair he had seen in Gabriel's years ago when the fighting began. He cleared his throat and stood up.

"Nevertheless, I can't let you go. I'm sorry. You're far too valuable to me." The boy nodded.

"All's fair in... well, I don't need to tell you." He smiled faintly. "But I'm not going to tell you anything or take you anywhere."

"Gabriel, write a letter to the Colonel. Tell him we have his son and are willing to ngeotiate." Gabriel nodded and walked off. Alister laughed.

"Clever," he said. "But my father won't make any deals for me. It's a good plan, but it relies on a certain amount of love he just does not have for me." He smiled bitterly and Ben could see the pain in his eyes.

"I'll have someone bring you something to eat," he said.

---

While his Dragoons gathered around the fire to eat their dinners, Tavington poured over his maps of the area. They had ridden all day and found nothing. Bordon had had very little luck with the colonists as well. All they had to show for the venture were few more dead bodies and burned homes.

"Damn it!" Tavington pounded his fist down on the stack of papers.

"Sir?" He looked up. Wilkins was standing a few feet away. Tavington straightened his coat and faced him cooly.

"What is it, Captain Wilkins?"

The Loyalist stepped forward and held out a letter. "I found this today, sir. It's addressed to you." Tavington took it calmly while Wilkins backed off. It was indeed dressed to him in scratchy, unpracticed handwriting. He opened it.

_Dear Father,_

That was all he needed to see. He crumpled it and tossed it over his shoulder. Wilkins grimaced.

"Aren't you going to read it, sir?" he pleaded.

"Wilkins," the Colonel said, turning back to his work. "Kindly do not bring me every piece of trash you find lying around this state." Wilkins sighed and left him. Once he was gone, Tavington's eyes wandered over to the ball of paper lying on the ground. He walked over to it, picked it up and smoothed it out.

_Dear Father,_

And again, he went no further. Pride and Curiosity had a mighty battle inside of him, with Anxiousness occasionally . In the end, Pride was the victor and he held the paper over a candle, burning the edges. Then he stopped, considered and folded the letter up, placing it in his pocket.

---

Gabriel set a tin plate with an apple and a roasted something in front of Alys, then untied the bonds around her wrists but remained quite close to keep an eye on her. She fell upon the food, starving. "Thank you very much," she said sincerely, in between bites. He smiled and shrugged, pleased.

When she was finished, she licked her fingers and held her wrists out expectantly. Gabriel raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Aren't you going to tie my hands again?" she asked him. Gabriel looked to his father, who was melting bullets over a fire. He shook his head.

"Not just yet," he said.

"Well, that's a comfort," Alys looked around at the rough men who were all giving her death glares. "I suppose it would be a very stupid thing to try and escape." Any one of them looked like they would have loved to kill her with their bare hands.

"Pretty stupid," Gabriel said with a grin. Martin cursed as he burned himself and threw a sheepish look over his shoulder. Gabriel hid a laugh behind his hand. Alys felt a twinge of jealousy.

"You're very close to your father aren't you?" she asked quietly.

Gabriel nodded and looked at Benjamin Martin. With a great deal of respect in his voice, he said, "We don't always agree, but he is a strong man. He does everything with a great love in his heart for our cause and for us as well." He blushed. "He tries to protect me. He'd do anything for me. Don't tell him I said so, but I'm very proud of him." Alys smiled wistfully.

"I'd give anything to have that with my father," she said. Gabriel didn't answer but looked at her questioningly, waiting for her to continue. She sighed. "We never got to know each other very well. Growing up, I always had to admire him from afar. After my mother died, I guess you could say I was dumped on his doorstep. And he didn't have much use for me." Alys was surprised to hear this words coming out of her mouth so candidly. It felt good to speak them out loud. "He ignored me when I was polite and well-behaved. So I started trying to anger him in order to get his attention. I disobey him, I interfere with his work. It's all out of the deepest affection, I can assure you. But there's only so much he'll tolerate. He's come down to saying he wants nothing more to do with me. But even after that, I still try. I suppose that in the end, I can't stop seeing and loving him as the man I admired so much as a little..." She caught herself. "Boy."

Gabriel took this all in silently. Alys felt emptied, relieved, as if she'd just had a really good cry. She could only imagine what the young rebel thought of her ranting, though. Amazingly, he smiled at her kindly.

"I like you a good bit, Alister Tavington," he said, patting her knee. "If circumstances were different, I think we'd have been friends." Then he stood up and walked over to join his father.

---

Got the chapter title from the Joni Mitchell song, "Both Sides Now". It fit. Check it out, it's a great song! Please review!


End file.
